


words can hurt

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Angst, Not particularly kind to NTA, Post 6x12, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 02:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13561272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Post-6x12, Felicity has to help Oliver deal with the emotional fallout caused by Rene's insensitive line about PTSD.





	words can hurt

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This is not a particularly kind fic towards NTA. As much as I love the characters, the Arrow writers have been writing them in such a way that they have come across as immature, disrespectful and rude. I'm actually quite angry about it because I imagine that the actors themselves have been getting backlash about this, although their behaviour about it has not been particularly civil either.
> 
> Rene's line about 'getting PTSD being back in the bunker' was very upsetting to me. To think that the Arrow writers actually wrote that line, thinking it would be a funny, snarky comment for Rene to say - when in actuality could be offensive to PTSD sufferers - is appalling. Especially as it has essentially been established by canon and by the producers that Oliver, Felicity and Diggle suffer from PTSD. Using a mental illness as part of a joke on a TV show is not acceptable to me.
> 
> Comments on this fic will be moderated as I am well aware that there will be some fans who will get angry about this and my opinions which I've expressed in this fic and express that anger in rude ways. Other than that, I would like to hear your own opinions and any feedback. Thank you.

“Do you think he meant what he said?”

Felicity’s eyes fluttered open and she rubbed at them groggily with a sigh. It was nearly 4am; they’d just got back to their apartment after a night spent in the bunker working with Alena to try and figure out who had sent the doctored images to Cayden James and to the FBI. William was still at the safehouse with Raisa, and although that provided them with the perfect privacy they needed to enjoy each other’s bodies, they’d been too tired.

She’d just been on the verge of falling asleep when Oliver spoke quietly beside her. His voice sounded so distressed and small that it immediately caused concern to sweep over her. Shifting so she was lying on her side, Felicity was surprised to see that her husband had turned around and was curled up with his back to her in their bed, covers barely covering his naked chest.

Molding herself against his back as she carefully drew the blankets up so he wouldn’t be as cold, she asked quietly, “Did who mean what?”

“Rene. When… he said he gets PTSD when he’s in the bunker.”

She could feel Oliver practically trembling in her arms and nothing alarmed Felicity more. She shuffled up the bed and turned the bedside lamp on dimly, casting light over them both. Knowing that Oliver wouldn’t want her to see him crying if he was, she propped her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his chest. Oliver relaxed a little bit when she began caressing his arm lightly with her fingertips, but his muscles were still tensed, his body held taut as a wire.

“I think he was just being dramatic,” she murmured, kissing his neck. “That he meant it as a sarcastic barb towards you, John and I. He doesn’t ‘get’ PTSD when he’s in the bunker, Oliver - or at least, I don’t think so. It wouldn’t surprise me if Rene did have PTSD, but I don’t think he’s triggered in any way by being down there.”

She felt her husband nod, and emit a soft, “Oh.” It didn’t sound relieved in any way. In fact, it sounded dejected.

“He shouldn’t have said that,” she continued. “Even if he was trying to joke, he shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate. He knows we all suffer from PTSD… I think what’s upsetting is that I’m not sure whether he was trying to offend us or not. I would hope he wasn’t.”

“Okay.”

Sighing, she sat up, urging Oliver to do the same. He did so slowly, his movements dragging and exposing his exhaustion. Cupping his cheek, Felicity tried to get her husband to look her in the eye, but Oliver refused to, keeping his gaze lowered as if he was ashamed of something.

“Talk to me,” she told him gently. “Please.”

Oliver pressed his hands into his eyes. “It’s just - I didn’t think - I thought maybe - I do.”

She blinked, confused. “Do what, honey?”

“Get PTSD when I’m in the bunker,” he whispered. “Or - my PTSD gets triggered when I’m down there and I can’t - _every day_ that’s something I have to put up with. I get flashbacks when light reflects off our knives or guns down there strangely and I can’t help but remember Chase shoving arrows through my shoulder when I - when I look at my bow and I can’t -” He shook his head, shuddering. “What Rene said it - resonated with me so much, and to know that he didn’t mean that, to know that he said it to be dramatic and maybe trying to hurt our feelings… that he thought it was such a ridiculous idea that he could _joke_ about -”

He cut himself off with a barely audible sob. It was only the shaking of Oliver’s shoulders that told Felicity that he was on the edge of a breakdown. She felt stupid now for not realising the amount of impact Rene’s spiteful comment could have had on her husband, who had been suffering from acute PTSD for over a decade. She’d been able to brush the comment off because she’d suspected that Rene was attempting to make them feel guilty, and she reckoned that John had done the same… but it hadn’t even crossed her mind that Oliver might not find it as easy to ignore.

Drawing him in for a hug, Felicity encased Oliver’s body with her own. He always calmed whenever he was being held, so she tried to cover him as much as possible. Guiding her husband to lie back down, she straddled his hips, an arm around his neck as she lay on top of him so she could properly embrace him. Oliver buried his nose in her hair and reached up to lock his arms around her back, hugging her back. His quiet sobbing slowly died down, breathing evening out but still shallow. Risking a glance up, Felicity swallowed when he saw that Oliver had his eyes closed, lips pursed together tightly. She wiped away the last couple of tears on his face tenderly with her thumb, dotting kisses over his forehead, cheeks and chin.

“I’m being so stupid,” he muttered under his breath.

“No, you’re not,” Felicity informed him, her voice firm. “You have every right to feel however you want. Concerning Rene _and_ what he said. In fact, you have every right to feel however you want about Rene and Dinah as well, because you have been enormously respectful and supportive of their decisions to form a separate team, and all they’ve done in return is act rude and inconsiderate, and pin the blame on you whenever things don’t go their way. As much as we care about them, Oliver, we have to admit they have been immature and hostile towards us, despite how civil we’ve been since the team split.”

His hands tightened around her waist. “I just feel like I’ve failed them,” her husband confessed defeatedly.

“If anything, they’ve failed you,” she replied.

“Dinah wanted me to apologise for what happened to Vince when I went over to check on her earlier.”

“She wanted _you_ to apologise?” Felicity shot him a puzzled look. “Why? It wasn’t your fault at all.”

He shrugged sadly. “She was angry we didn’t get the thermobaric bomb, felt as if Vince had died for nothing. She was hurting. She took it out on me. I’m okay with that.”

“Uh, you shouldn’t be,” she argued. “She’s angry at you? I’m angry at _her_. She tried to equate you wanting to save me or Diggle wanting to save Lyla to her saving Vince to guilt trip you into letting her go. And I’m pissed off about Rene and Curtis too for deciding to go with Dinah to save one person when you and John were trying to save _millions_ of people, the _entire_ city, by retrieving that bomb. Maybe one of them should have gone with her as back-up, sure, but they both chose to save a single person instead of the city, leaving you and John to tackle the bigger issue by yourselves. Whenever _you’ve_ had to make that choice, however difficult it’s been, you’ve always decided to save the city. Yes, you would have sent somebody to save me if I was in trouble, but you wouldn’t have sent three out of the five people on the team.”

“You’re furious about this,” Oliver realised, frowning.

“Of course I am! I love Rene, Curtis and Dinah but most - not all, but _most_ \- of their tactical decisions lately have been _ridiculous_. I’ll be honest, I don’t want you and John out in the field with them right now. They don’t even seem to care about us anymore - they only care about their new little team. How can we trust them?”

Blue eyes swimming with dismay, Oliver asked wearily, “Do you think they’ll ever want to come back to our team?”

“I don’t know,” Felicity said, not wanting to lie, because she couldn’t definitively say yes or no at the moment. “But frankly, if they keep up with their current behaviour, I don’t know if I want them back on the team, even if they do request to rejoin.” Seeing how Oliver didn’t respond and didn’t seem to have the energy to anymore, Felicity scratched at his beard lightly, dropping kissing from his breastbone up to his neck. She wasn’t trying to initiate sex of any kind - she just knew from experience that affection helped Oliver unwind enough to get to sleep. “You tired?”

He nodded, dancing his fingers up and down her spine.

“You feel better?”

“A little. Talking helped.”

“You think you can sleep?”

Her husband hesitated, but after a moment shook his head apologetically. “A lot going on up here,” he mumbled, raising his hand to motion at his head.

“Let’s go and make some hot cocoa,” she suggested.

Oliver groaned. “I don’t know if I can be bothered to get up right now.”

“I thought you said you weren’t tired.”

“I’m too tired to get out of bed… but not too tired for things we could do in bed,” he said, his voice husky and suggestive.

Sitting up and bracing her hands on his chest, Felicity quirked an eyebrow. Oliver’s eyes darkened as he raked his gaze up and down his wife’s body, and she smirked when she felt him shift ever so slightly underneath her, hands framing her hips. Leaning over, she brushed her lips against his ear, revelling in how he shivered as she whispered, “Then maybe we should stay in bed and… cuddle.” She rolled off his chest, grinning at his faint noise of disappointment.

“Really?” he complained. “ _Just_ cuddling?”

“I’m too exhausted for physical exercise,” she hummed. “And I have to wake up in three hours so I can drive over to ARGUS and drop off a couple more of William’s PS4 games and his chemistry project book for him. So be a good husband and cuddle with your wife so I can fall asleep, please.”

“As you wish, Mrs Queen.” He switched off the lamp and swept her into his arms so he was spooning her on their sides.

“Sweet dreams, Mr Smoak.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


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